Stay
by MayaLala
Summary: Nick will never ever get over her. Ever. One shot.


**I was having a pretty bad day when I wrote this. So sorry for the feels. Had to get them out somehow. Writing is my release. **

He didn't even need to look in her room. The reality was slowly clenching his heart into a mass of broken valves and dried up veins. She wouldn't be there. He knew it.

It was still dark out but the sun was beginning to rise in pale pinks and oranges. His room smelled stale and sour. Surrounded by bottles and dirty clothes, he felt a nagging he knew was hunger but the pain in his chest wouldn't allow him to enjoy food, maybe ever again.

Desperately he wanted to cry. He wanted to have enough energy to feel something but instead laying here on the bed was all he could think of doing. Rolling over, closing his eyes, took the last of his verve.

His bladder woke him later in the day. Sitting upright he dragged his slow ass out to the hallway and the bright light of reality. Nobody was home, he knew that. The harshness of fresher air and bright lights stung his senses.

Deciding on a shower to help wake him up, he dropped is clothes to the floor with slumped shoulders and walked into the hot water. It felt good. It felt comforting like a hug. He instantly fell into the pattern of washing himself without thinking about why he was even doing it. Maybe he felt better. He didn't know. Mainly he just felt a little bit more awake.

Walking to the kitchen he stared into the fridge. He saw her strawberries on the shelf and swallowed hard. He dared his body to shed a tear but it wouldn't. He was too far gripped with sadness to actually bother with crying.

He tried to choke down some milk. His throat wouldn't swallow it and it tasted of metal. Feeling as though he had done enough for one day, he returned to his room and fell back asleep still wrapped in his towel.

Waking in the dark this time, he was confused as to whether it was day or night. Ridiculously parched, he headed to the kitchen for some water. His body felt like it was made of cement and moving his legs took most of his concentration.

Knowing his phone was filled with unanswered texts and messages, he walked by it solemnly. He hated that people could find him through such a small device.

He han't even seen her sitting at the table in the quiet.

"Hello Nick."

He stopped in his tracks. Staring at the ground wondering what was happening around him as he tried to grasp the voice. His heart raced from fear, eyes trying desperately to focus.

"Hello Nick"

"Hi" he answered back.

He turned to face her. He could see her white dress with tiny straps, her shoulders bare with hair cascading around in soft curls as she sat at the table in the soft light. Her eyes were clear and her reserved smile revealed how white her teeth were.

His body yearned to feel how soft her body was when he would hold her in bed. He wanted to smell her and touch her face. Shaking his head to clear these thoughts he kept walking into the kitchen.

"Are you OK Nick" she asked.

"No, I am not OK. How could you ask such a thing" he said while filling a glass with water.

She was silent, lips tight eyes now gazing at her hands.

He turned and looked at her while drinking. His eyes were more focused than they had been all day. He didn't know what to say or what to think. He always felt so paralyzed when she was around. Damn him.

The anger that began to surge from his chest was a surprise. It resonated down his arms and legs convincing his broken heart to begin pumping at full speed as the adrenaline reached his hand enabling it to move with lightning speed and pound on the counter.

"Why are you here" he roared across the room! "What are you doing here?" Spit flying from his lips and tears reaching his cheeks he took his glass of water and threw it hard across the room shattering against the floor. He reached out and took anything within arm's length and began to throw everything on the floor, up against the fridge, the countertops. His rage was growing. He knew what he was doing was wrong and he couldn't stop.

Someone grabbed him from him behind and instantly he was down on the ground, face planted against the floor, arms locked behind him. His towel had come undone and he was flailing around as if seized.

"Man, calm it, man, breathe Nick. Just breathe."

Winston ran into the kitchen and took in the sight. "What's going on?"

"He was breaking everything and screaming" Schmidt said.

"Nick, hey, hey, come on man, you gotta calm down."

Nick's body began to slow as the adrenaline disappeared and the veil of sadness returned to his head.

"Yeah, I'm OK, let me up." He stood up and tied his towel again around his waist. "Hey, I'm really sorry, I dont..."

"It's OK man, we'll clean it up. You head back to your room and sleep it off."

Glancing back at her, he nodded his head and shuffled back to his room. Closing the door behind him, he rubbed his eyes and looked at his suit hanging on the back of his chair. The rose bud, on his desk, curling from dry air. He could still smell the flowers. There had been hundreds and hundreds of flowers and people everywhere.

It had been his first time slipping the gloves on his hands, glancing around at nervous eyes. The music had begun as they raised the box to their shoulders and carried her casket down the aisle.

He knew she would haunt him probably forever. For now though, he had to find a way to just get through tonight without looking for her again, out there, where she should be. He had to just get through tonight.


End file.
